


To Grow Into One's Skin

by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch



Series: To Grow Into One's Skin [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Coming Untouched, I wrote yoga smut I have no excuse, M/M, Masturbation, Meditation, On Set, RPF, UST, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6534922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch/pseuds/LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha helps Jensen unwind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Grow Into One's Skin

**Author's Note:**

> This is RPF, you know the drill: As a work of fiction, none of this claims to have any foundation in RL. The story is based on the stage personas of two beautiful dorks. I wrote this in a few days and had so much fun with it that I decided to share while fully aware of its flaws ... 
> 
> Set in Season 6, unbeta'd (sorry for that).

1

“Hey Jay, what’s up tonight?”

“How the hell would I know?” Jensen snapped.

“Whoa, easy, what’s eating at you?” Jared held up his hands, taking a step back from his best friend.

Misha saw the exchange from the door to his trailer and quickly went over to them. Jensen had been killing himself going into his directional debut and was obviously getting to the frayed ends of his nerves. Jared, sometimes oblivious to these things, only now seemed to discover what Misha had seen for days: Jensen needed a break.

  
“Hey there, big boy.” Misha patted Jensen’s shoulder like he would with a nervous horse. Jared eyed him for a moment but got the clue and vanished in the general direction of his trailer. Misha watched him leave and turned to his friend who was busy messing his hair up with nervous hands. “This week must’ve been rough on you”, Misha observed.

“Yeah, no kidding. I don’t know why I ever agreed to this.”

“Because you love it. And a week from now, you will be so proud because you survived and you did well.”

“Well, that doesn’t keep me from losing it right now. Jared will be pissed, and honestly? I don’t even have the energy to care.”

Misha contemplated his answer for moment, smacking his lips together, then he made up his mind. “Would you like to come to my trailer? I think I know a way for you to wind down. And don’t look at me like that, Ackles. No sex, no drugs.”

Jensen managed a tired smile. ”A little bit of rock’n’roll?”

Misha sighed, playing into the act of 1000 % done parent. “No, not even that.”

 

2

Misha fussed around with some strange scented candles, let down the drapes and rearranged the furniture to make room in the middle of his trailer. It was starting to creep Jensen out a little bit, if he was being honest. He knew his co-star was into some kinky shit, and while they never talked about it, Jensen had always wondered what exactly was on Misha’s mind when he got this knowing, curious Cas-stare. Looks like I’m about to find out, he told himself.

Misha motioned to the middle of the beige carpet. “Sit.”

Jensen obeyed, but shot Misha a questioning look. “Care to elaborate what we’re doing here?”

Misha sat down in front of him, falling into a loose lotus with year-long ease. “We, my dear Mr. Ackles, are going to meditate. Because you’re drawn tight like a string for days now and I’m not going to watch that for a minute longer.”

Jensen opened his mouth to argue, but nothing came out. All the possible jokes about finding your inner child-hippie-nonsense and that one time he nearly puked at the yoga studio would only sound like him channeling Dean. And Misha would have none of that. He was right, and seriously, if this could help, who was he to say no.

“Alright, let’s do this.” He clapped his hands together, waiting for instructions.

Misha just sighed. He adored Jensen’s hands-on attitude, in fact it was one of the reasons he started to fall hard for his co-star, but it was also exactly what had gotten him into this burned out state.

“We start with breathing. Sit comfortable, tuck your legs under maybe. We’re gonna sit like this for a while. Now lay your open hands on your knees, see? Like this.”

Misha took his time to show Jensen how to sit, helping him get cozy, knowing how much his friend needed the reassurance and guidance. He looked into Jensen’s mossy green eyes. Fanfiction green, a really astute assessment all those crazy fangirls made there.

“What now?”, Jensen asked.

“Close your eyes. Concentrate on your breath. Just observe, don’t try to change it. When your thoughts start to wander, go back to your breath and try to go blank. You can picture a grey spot between your eyes.”

He looked at Jensen who obediently let his lids fall down, those ridiculous eyelashes fanning out. His features, a compelling mix of feminine and masculine lines, relaxed in front of Misha, became softer. Jensen’s jaw unclenched, his plush lips became even more pronounced as he stopped pressing them together. Misha seized the opportunity and let his eyes roam freely over the body in front of him, catching on the broad and muscled shoulders, taking in the softly tanned arms, only partly obscured by a well-worn grey t-shirt.

He could see how the tense lines of Jensen’s body loosened with every breath, all that tightly wound control slowly draining out of him. It felt like all this coiled energy flooded from Jensen right into him, but he knew he had to blame only himself.

Misha’s thoughts zeroed in on the mental image of this compliant, relaxed Jensen, all those glorious limbs sprawled on his bed … and if he didn’t stop this train of thought right the fuck now this could lead to some really uncomfortable questions as soon as Jensen opened his eyes again. So Misha took some of his own medicine, closed his eyes with one last longing look at Jensen’s face, and started to calm his breath.

Jensen didn’t know how long they sat like this. In the beginning he had to tuck on the leash of his wandering thoughts constantly, but Misha’s advice to picture a blank space in his forehead worked. It soon became easier to go back to his breath, his mind quieted down and, for the first time in days, he felt his own body, felt like himself. It was a wonderful, calming feeling, growing back into his own skin.

It was minutes or hours, he couldn’t say, when shit went sideways – because, out of nowhere, he started to cry.

“What the fuck?” He opened his eyes, taking in the startled man in front of him, and put his hands on his cheeks.

“What happened?” Misha asked slowly.

“You tell me. I was getting really into this zoned out state … and then this happened.”

Jensen was shaking now, anger, embarrassment and something like relief washing through him and doing zilch to stop his waterworks. As an actor who had done his fair amount of emotional scenes he knew, once his body was into it, there was no stopping this anytime soon. But, seriously, he didn’t know why it happened.

Misha didn’t laugh, just patted his knee reassuringly. “Jensen, that’s not surprising at all. You just relaxed the first time in days, maybe weeks. Your body responds to that. Everybody reacts differently to meditation. It’s a good sign that you could fall so deep into it, let go so much. Just let your body do its thing, it’s okay. Keep breathing, there you go.”

The shaking stopped and eventually the tears did, too. The strange but wonderful feeling of being grounded in himself stayed.

Jensen opened his eyes and smiled at Misha, who was still looking at him inquiringly, with an almost there Cas-like head tilt.

“Thank you, Misha, honestly, I feel so much better now. We should do that again.”

Misha smiled back. “Sure, whenever you need me.”

Jensen got up and left the trailer with a casual “Laters”.

Misha followed him, tried to look relaxed and composed, all serious guru, shut the door softly behind Jensen, locked it. And went straight to his bedroom to give himself the much-needed attention he so desperately deserved for restraining every urge to just bend Jensen over the nearest table and help him relax in a much more efficient way.

Would he know a little bit less about himself, he would be ashamed or even surprised about how he only needed a few well-practiced strokes from getting fully hard to come all over his hand with a croaked “Fuck my life” slipping from his lips. But he really was neither. Not ashamed, not surprised, only resigned. To never let his Texan uberstraight co-star in on how much wreckage he wrought – on Misha’s libido, his ability to concentrate, let’s say, on meditating, and his heart.

 

3

“Hey Mish, I wanted to ask, you know when after you worked your ass off for weeks and get back to normal, you kind of fall into this hole? Well, I think I just landed in one of these. You got anything for that?”

Misha smiled his big gummy smile. “You make it sound like I’m a drug dealer. Which, I inform you, I am not. Not at this moment anyway.”

Jensen stood in the door of Misha’s trailer, waiting. “Come in”, Misha said, getting up to sit in what he started to think of as their place.

Over the last days Jensen had come over twice and usually they repeated the easy breathing exercise Misha had shown Jensen that first time. Today Misha wanted to try something new.

He was pleasantly surprised by Jensen’s openness to all of this. Given his more than traditional upbringing and his manly man demeanor, he fell rather easily into a practice that had to be at least exotic for him. To meditate and really let go, you had to be willing to face parts of your mind that most people kept closed off while distracting themselves with work and constant input from the outside.

They hadn’t talked about Jensen’s breakdown a few days earlier, but he seemed to have come to terms with it. That alone was something Misha hadn’t anticipated, and to be honest, it made Jensen even more interesting to him. Just when he thought he had this man all figured out, Jensen surprised him again. Needless to say that his thoughts kept coming back to the dangerous question what else was kept hidden behind those beautiful eyes, what else Jensen would be willing to try, what else Misha could show him.

“Mish? You with me, buddy?”

Misha snapped out of his thoughts, focusing again on Jensen. “Oh sorry. Yes, okay. Let’s start. Please sit. So, I thought, today we could hum together.”

Jensen huffed out a laugh. “What?”

Misha began to explain the exercise. They would hum whichever tune they fell into with every exhale for 20 minutes – that made Jensen’s eyebrows ride up even more but he kept quiet.

“After that, we hold our hands in front of us, like this.” Misha showed him, bending his elbows over his hip joint, his fingertips almost touching. “I won’t tell you what’s coming next, you’ll see for yourself. Or maybe not. Whatever your reaction is, it’s okay. We’ll stay sitting for another 15 minutes.”

Jensen just nodded, sat comfortably, and closed his eyes. Misha did the same, inhaling deep, and began to hum.

The first maybe ten times Jensen hummed on his exhale he felt like a total moron. He self-consciously tried to make it sound good, variating the tone till it sounded okay to his own ears. Singing in front of others had always made him nervous. He knew that his voice was okay but he felt like he gave away way more of himself than he did with acting.

But Jensen had begun to trust Misha in these last few days. So when he hummed for a minute, the nervous flutter in his chest settled down and he could concentrate on his breathing and the vibration his voice send through his body.

After a while, Jensen’s and Misha’s rhythm alternated. When he was quiet, Misha hummed, when Misha inhaled, Jensen hummed. It was nice, both their deep voices blended well together and he fell into a trance-like state.

When Misha said “last one”, he came back to reality, and held his arms like Misha had shown him. Still absolutely calm and relaxed he at first didn’t feel it. A few moments later he had to smile. His arms moved on their own, his hands going ever so slowly outwards. It was a strange but pleasant feeling, and the obvious metaphorical reading of this pose of him opening up to the world wasn’t lost on him.

The energy he had felt while humming still buzzed through him and it was like it bounced back and forth between them.

After a while, Misha said quietly, “We change direction now, letting our hands wander back to our bodies, and take the energy we build back with us to keep it.” Jensen nudged his hands which minutely inched back to his belly.

Another seven minutes later, Misha told him to keep his eyes closed, keep still and just breathe for a bit, then slowly open his hands and eyes. When he came to, Jensen smiled at Misha who watched him intently.

“Wow, that was great.”

Misha threw him an affectionate look. “I’ve never seen anyone get into this so fast. For most people it takes a long time to just accept their body to do its thing. Do you feel better?”

Jensen nodded. “A bit like a live wire. But focused. It’s hard to explain but I feel great. I gotta be back on set in a few minutes, thank you so much, buddy.”

He jumped up, went swiftly over to the door and vanished.

 

 

The energetic state he had hummed himself into, and yes, he knew how strange that sounded, lasted for the rest of a long day at work.

Jensen still felt fresh and alive when he came back home around midnight. At this point he wasn’t sure if he would even be able to sleep. He ate some leftover spaghetti from the day before, checked his mail and messages on his phone, and decided to take a shower.

Once in the quiet bathroom he came aware of his own skin. Undressing send shivers down his spine. What the hell did Misha do to him? He huffed, sure this wasn’t the first and not the last time we would ask himself this exact question.

Jensen had never seen himself as a really sexual person. He enjoyed sex, no doubt about it, but since his teenage years it wasn’t something he fiercely craved or that let his focus shift from work. He had long come to terms with the fact that he found men attractive, but never acted on it because he saw it as just that: attraction that would go away after a while when you spend time with that person and your relationship grew into something else, more relaxed maybe.

So the fact that Misha crawled his way into his mind a few times lately? Didn’t freak him out. He liked Misha’s voice, those blue eyes, always either reflecting deep thought or some kind of mischief. Jensen loved to make Misha smile, the crinkles around his eyes. He liked working with him; they had great chemistry that catched on film and upped the quality of the show in his opinion.

What freaked him out was that, for the first time in his life, the simple attraction began to morph into downright want in the last few days. What freaked him out was the kaleidoscope of images that now flooded his mind the instant he thought about his co-star.

While hot water pelted down on him, pictures of Misha mixed with all the other male bodies he had ever admired, just snippets of dreams, with high speed, strong hands, holding him down and being able to keep him there, muscled thighs, the feeling of stubble while kissing open, filthy and wet. Jensen gave in, pumping into his lose wet fist in an almost lazy way. But this was all it took, all he could bear in this still hyper-aware state.

His orgasm rolled through him like a wave, reaching every part of him and leaving behind a deceivingly calm surface. He knew the ocean beneath it had to be addressed someday, but for now he stepped out of the shower, dried off and fell asleep as soon his head reached his pillow.

 

4

“So, how did you get into this?”, Jensen asked one evening when they walked beside each other after another long day on set.

“Vicky and I have experimented a lot ever since we got together. Yoga, trantra, I don’t know, it always fascinated me. For me, yoga is the practice of accepting yourself, linking your mind and body. As an actor, I have to lend my body to another, fictional, person. And to get it back, to reunite kind of, I meditate and do some asanas.”

He shrugged.

“I don’t know if that makes any sense to you. But after long hours of being Castiel, I need to feel like myself again, get aware of me I think.”

Jensen nodded. “I get that. It’s like with Jared and I joking around, we need that like a kind of ritual to get out of the headspace of the Winchesters. Speaking of that: Since he can enjoy his long weekend today, would you mind if I joined you?”

Jensen bumped his shoulder amiably, and Misha couldn’t help but tense up a little at the seemingly innocent move. This man would someday, in the near future, kill him, and he wouldn’t even know how he did it.

“Sure”, he managed to say, and it sounded weird even to his own ears. Jensen looked at him curiously but let it go.

He went to change into comfortable clothes and came back to Misha’s trailer.

They settled in the middle of the trailer like always and Jensen started to get into his sitting position, but Misha stopped him.

“No, lay on your back. We’re doing yoga nidra today, it’s better to lay down for this.”

Jensen did as he was told, laying back on the thin carpet and waiting for Misha who sat on the couch. The easiness with which Jensen complied to Misha’s directions spoke to some primal part of him but he ignored it.

“I’ll stay here and talk you through it. The basic idea of this is to concentrate on different parts of your body and learn to send energy to them. This life energy is called prana – and in consciously directing it, your revitalize your whole body while settling your mind. When I’m done, you can stay for a few more minutes and just breathe, okay?”

Jensen just nodded, readjusted for a last time and closed his eyes.

It felt a bit weird, laying down in front of Misha, knowing that blue stare was fixed on him while he was kind of exposed. It was a strangely intimate experience.

“Take a few deep breaths. Now picture yourself lying here.”

Jensen had to smile at that, because it fit so well with his earlier thoughts.

“So, I’ll just mention different parts of your body and you try to picture them and really feel them.”

Jensen heard the rustling of Misha’s clothes as he got comfortable on the couch. “Alright. We’ll start with your right hand.”

“Thumb.”

“Pointer finger.”

“Middle finger.”

“Ring finger.”

“Little finger.”

“The back of your hand.”

“The palm of your hand.”

“Wrist… “

Misha’s deep voice rumbled through Jensen. His intonation was steady and kind of relentless. Clear cut pauses between the words gave Jensen time to concentrate on the mentioned part of his hand. Soon, his skin began to tingle. It actually felt like he could direct energy just like Misha said. When the trail of Misha’s words travelled up his right arm, the feeling intensified.

“Elbow.”

“Bicep.”

“Armpit.”

“Shoulder.”

The tingly feeling turned into something like a caress. Jensen’s mind couldn’t help but wander. Flashes of Misha touching him sizzled through his imagination, leaving the parts his voice touched burning with the desire for more.

Misha switched to his other arm.

“Left hand.”

“Thumb.”

“Pointer finger.”

“Middle finger…”

Okay, so now Jensen thought about hands and fingers and started to really get turned on. He took a deep breath, trying to get back to the task at hand. Once again concentrating on his body and Misha’s gravel voice, he willfully ignored his swelling erection and blocked every associative thought about touching out.

When Misha reached the shoulder again, he turned to the legs, starting with the right foot. Jensen could live with that and managed to remain calm – until he realized where this was going.

His breath catched when Misha mentioned his knee.

His belly flipped when Misha’s voice reached his thigh.

His blood flooded right in the general region when Misha said “hip”.

Jensen tried to control his breathing – and failed. He could tell the exact moment when Misha must have opened his eyes and saw the evidence of the effect all of this had on Jensen. Misha paused for a long moment.

When he started talking again, focusing on the left foot, Misha’s voice was even lower. Castiel-low, seductive. Jensen realized that he wasn’t the only one affected by this.

 

 

Misha didn’t know what happened right now and postponed analyzing the messed-up situation he got himself into to a later, much later point in time. He had had his fair share of erotic moments, getting together with sensual people, trying things with Vicky, exploring all there was to sex.

But all these experiences didn’t prepare him for this. The man he had ached for for months now, obsessed over in his fantasies, was right here in front of him, his huge cock that played such a vital role in Misha’s daydreams tenting the soft fabric of Jensen’s sweatpants.

Misha was painfully hard himself at this point but refused to do anything about it, afraid to ruin this strange but magical moment. He gripped the cushions of his couch with both hands, to keep himself from touching – Jensen or himself, he didn’t know. His voice sounded positively wrecked even to his own ears, when he said “the back of your knee”.

Jensen moaned.

 

 

He had never been in such a charged situation. Jensen couldn’t move, didn’t dare to move in fear of stopping this exquisite torture. He felt everything – the cotton on his body, every part of his skin, the floor beneath his back, the beading wetness that seeped into his sweatpants. Misha went on, mercyless.

“Thigh.”

“Hip.”

“Waist.”

“The left side of your ribs.”

“Pec.”

“Throat.”

Jensen imagined Misha’s hands on him, his mouth, teeth. His hips began, almost involuntarily, to describe tiny circles. Even this small amount of friction made him whimper.

He wondered what he must look like, but he only knew that it made Misha lose the last beads of control.

“Your mouth, Jensen, your perfect mouth.”

“Lips.”

“Neck.”

“Right nipple.”

Misha didn’t seem to care about proper succession anymore, instead giving in to name all the places he wanted to explore. Sweat began to pool on Jensen’s lower back. Heat coiled deep in his gut. He heard Misha swallow.

“The insides of your thighs.”

Jensen’s legs spread a bit of their own volition. The movement increased the friction on the head of his cock and he snapped his hips up, seeking more of it. He groaned with every small thrust, reveling in the helpless noise this wrought from Misha.

Jensen would never have thought this possible, at least at his age, but he was so close to losing it. He began to tremble, feeling the well-known tension building in his spine.

Misha’s panting, the awareness of every inch of his oversensitive skin, the sheer anticipation for Misha’s next words – he balanced on the edge, completely at Misha’s mercy.

And Misha let him dangle there, clearly relishing the power he had over Jensen. He let Jensen ride the highest point of his arousal for hours it seemed while Jensen lay helplessly wondering if he could die from this.

“Your cock, Jensen. The base, underside, head of your fat cock”, Misha rasped, almost inaudible, and it sounded a lot like he admitted defeat, while Jensen came with a shout, cresting and falling into one of the most intense orgasms he ever had.

Jensen rode out the aftershocks, slowly bringing his labored breaths under control. When he came back to reality he pressed his hands into his still-closed eyes.

“That was the weirdest thing I ever did”, he said, at the exact same moment as Misha said

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen”.

Jensen chuckled self-consciously.

Misha moved so fast he only realized it when his hands were grabbed and pulled from his face. Deep blue circles surrounding orbs of black arousal stared at him.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen”, Misha growled. “Whatever happens after this happens completely at your terms and I’ll even agree to never talk about it again if you want, but don’t you dare diminish this. And the next time I make you come, if there will be one, your eyes will be open and I want to feel it. Have I made myself perfectly clear?”

Jensen’s dick gave a halfhearted twitch at Misha’s deep commanding voice. Seemed like he was completely conditioned to it now.

“Yes”, Jensen bit back. “And Misha?” His lips tugged into a light smile. “Thanks, um, for helping me, you know, relax.”

* * *

  
Find me on [tumblr](https://procasdeanating.tumblr.com/).


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